


far from this foreign land (you know the way it's supposed to be)

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Season/Series 02, tag for episode 2x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-03
Updated: 2007-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: Coda to episode 2x20, "What Is and What Should Never Be."





	far from this foreign land (you know the way it's supposed to be)

**Author's Note:**

> 520 words. Dude, this episode, it broke me. nothing like a kick in the gut to get the muses going, right? Title courtesy of Jefferson Airplane. looked over by my wonderful girl, [](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/profile)[waterofthemoon](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/).

Dean wakes up with a start, shooting up and looking wildly around until his eyes fall on his little brother. Sam's fast asleep in the other bed, curled up on his side, facing him, and Dean relaxes a little. Sammy's here, with him, in this reality.

Dean scoots up the bed, rubbing a hand across his sweaty forehead as he leans against the headboard, eyes never leaving Sam. He had wanted to stay in that other world, the world where Sam had Jess, and he had Carmen, and there was Mom. He'd wanted to see his little brother happy.

But he couldn't.

He doesn't know if that makes him a selfish bastard, but he couldn't live in a world where Sam wasn't Sammy, wasn't his brother, didn't have any connection to him except blood. He wanted it for Sam so bad he could almost taste it, but he couldn't do it.

He wonders what that says about them - that for his family to be happy and alive or dead by natural causes, he had to be an alcoholic asshole who'd blown his baby brother off his whole life. Someone his little brother didn't trust, wouldn't trust, assumed the worst of right away.

He can remember Stanford, remember Sam trying for normal, trying to have that life, with Jess and friends and a life that wasn't lived out of the back of a '67 Impala. He remembers calling Sam on his birthday and on Christmas and just because he needed to hear his little brother's voice. He can remember the two times the phone was ever answered: once because it was nearly four am, and it took Sam a few seconds to realize who it was, and once because Jess had answered and asked who it was, and all Dean could do was choke out _wrong number_ before hanging up and finding the nearest bar.

He wonders if it means that if he's not around, Sam can have a normal life, can fall in love and become whatever he wants and have kids and dog in some big city as far away from him as possible, him a drunk or otherwise.

He thinks, sometimes, he should just get up like Sam had that one time, take off and head underground - not even hunting, just living, surviving. Thinks about letting Sam get on with his life, picking up where he left off, something, anything other than this. He thinks about it so hard he's already sitting on the edge of the bed, almost standing. But then Sam shifts and reaches out across the white sheets towards Dean's bed. He sighs, shifts again, and settles as he murmurs, "Dean."

And Dean knows he can't leave, can't go, can't be anywhere Sam's not. Before he can think about it, he's crouched down in front of Sam, one hand trailing across his face softly. "Yeah, Sam," he tells him, "I'm here," and Sam turns his face into Dean's hand, sighing once more. When Dean wakes up the next morning, Sam's face is pressed into his shoulder, and he never wants to move.  



End file.
